


Remember Me

by purple_cube



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 03:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3341411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It means that we were once in love. Or, at least, cared a lot about each other.”</p><p>In the aftermath of the firebombs, Katniss struggles to find herself - until she is paired with someone else who suffers from the same condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a drabble request for sixela872 on Tumblr, for the prompt "remember me" - thanks for the prompt, and my thanks to eliapolis for the beta readthrough.

 

 

 

“My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am 18 years old.”

 

The doctor looks up from his clipboard, silently encouraging her to continue.

 

“I have a mother and a sister. My father died when I was young. We lived in District 12.”

 

When she doesn’t continue, he frowns. She tries to focus on the way his grey eyebrows, so caterpillar-like, almost touch – but still, his words cut through. “Tell me more about them.”

 

She sighs. “I told you, I don’t remember.”

 

“Tell me anything. It doesn’t have to be from before.”

 

_Before_.

 

She thinks that it’s too simple a word to hold so much significance. _Before_ to him means her life before the firebombs. But _before_ to her is just an abstract concept – a blank space in the corner of her mind that they keep expecting her to fill any day now.

 

She thinks back to earlier that morning. “They don’t look like me, but they look like each other. I look like my father.”

 

The doctor – _Aurelius_ according to his name tag – sits forward with interest. “How do you know?”

 

“My mother showed me a photo.”

 

“Did you recognize him?”  


Shaking her head, she watches him visibly deflate. _Sorry to disappoint_.

 

Despite knowing that she didn’t say it out loud, he responds as if she had. “I’m sure that you’re as frustrated as I am with the lack of progress these past few weeks, Katniss. I’m going to propose a new approach – please, hear me out before making your decision.”

 

Taking a deep breath, she gives him a slight nod. He seems nervous, which she would laugh at if she didn’t think it would make him – and, in turn, her – feel worse. And really, at this point, she’s willing to try anything.

 

“I have another patient,” he begins, “Who is in a similar situation to you. Identical, in fact. He suffered second-degree burns during the firebombing of the Presidential Grounds during the final day of the war, immediately prior to ex-President Snow’s surrender. And I have also diagnosed him with amnesia. However, in his case, I believe that the substantial psychological trauma that this patient suffered before the firebombing is a contributing factor to his current state.”  


She takes a moment to process his words – before looking across with an expression that must reek of skepticism. “So, what you’re saying is that he’s in an even worse state than I am? And you expect him to help me?”

 

Dr. Aurelius gives her a small smile – more sad than defeated. “I think that you may be able to help each other. You have done in the past, after all.”

 

“Who is he?”

 

“His name is Peeta Mellark. Does that ring a bell?”

 

“No,” she answers honestly. “Should it?”

 

“It doesn’t matter if it _should_ , only that it doesn’t,” he says with a deep sigh. “Katniss, I must tell you that there is some concern from my colleagues about this idea. Peeta has displayed violent tendencies in the past – again, related to the trauma that he suffered – and it is important that you know that there is a risk of him experiencing an episode in your presence. But you can be confident that we will do our utmost to prevent this, or intervene should it not be prevented.”

 

“So, what you’re saying is that he could just as easily kill me as help me regain my memories?”

 

She means to make light of the situation, but Aurelius just nods gravely at the weight of her words.

 

She sighs. “Can I think about it?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Later, her father’s image floats around in her mind, and Katniss grows ever more frustrated when the strands of memories that should be tethered to it refuse to materialize.

 

She bangs her fist on the locked door.

 

“Tell Dr. Aurelius that I said yes,” she instructs the night guard.

 

*

 

“My name is Peeta Mellark. I am 18 years old. I grew up in District 12. My family is dead.”

 

She looks up sharply. “How did they die?”

 

“No idea,” he says simply – even a little cheerfully – and she finds herself stifling a smile behind her knuckles.  _Finally_. _A little dark humor_.

 

“What do you remember about District 12?” the doctor asks.

 

Peeta shakes his head. “Nothing, really. I have vague memories of a house and a yard, but nothing concrete. I mean, they could have been anywhere, right?”

 

“Actually, no. Your time outside of District 12 has been spent either underground in District 13, or in high-rise buildings in the Capitol. The house and yard that you are seeing are most likely your home in District 12.”

 

“Oh,” he replies with a small smile. “I guess that’s something.”

 

“It is, it is.” For the first time in weeks, Dr. Aurelius seems pleased.

 

Katniss frowns. It seems that even the occasionally psychotic Peeta Mellark is doing better than she is.

 

*

 

Two weeks after they are introduced to each other, the doctor brings a new element to their joint therapy sessions.

 

“Video footage,” he explains. “It would perhaps be best if I don’t say anymore and simply let you watch for yourselves.”

 

So they do. They watch the explanation of the Dark Days and the introduction of the Hunger Games. They watch as innocent children are plucked from faceless crowds and forced to fight for their lives. They watch the delighted response of the Capitol audience.

 

And they watch as it becomes their turn, their sharp intakes of breath barely masked by the television’s sound output.

 

Aurelius returns to the room midway through the 75th Games – only it isn’t midway, Katniss realizes, when the screen turns to black. “What happened?”

 

“You shot that arrow you had been holding at the force field,” he says quietly. “It triggered an explosion that knocked out the power. You, Katniss, were rescued by the rebels. You, Peeta, were not.”

 

She turns to see a thousand questions vying for attention in the young man’s eyes.

 

“All in good time,” the doctor responds. “For now, I want the two of you to concentrate on the footage that you’ve just seen. It may trigger a memory – a feeling, a single thought. That’s all it takes. Please, keep thinking about it. And talking to each other about it.”

 

When he leaves, Katniss leans back on the couch, still stunned by what they’ve seen.

 

“Do you think that it’s all true? What they said about the Games and the Rebellion? Did we really do those things?”

 

He shrugs. “It was all captured on screen.”

 

“But they can manipulate that, can’t they? I want to know if you really think that it all happened. If you and I are really capable of those things.”

 

She can see that he is turning her words over in his mind. Finally, he answers. “There’s something about you that makes me think that you could have. There’s a… spark in your eyes.”

 

She snorts. “Is that why they called me _the girl on fire_?”

 

He grins. “Maybe. “

 

“There’s something about you, too,” she admits after a long moment.

 

The corner of his mouth lifts with amusement. “Because I was on fire, too?”

 

Whether he means for the Tributes’ parade, or because of the firebombs, she has no idea. _Both, probably_. “You have a way with words. It’s like you can weave them into a tapestry, or paint a picture with them.”

 

He leans closer, and she can see the humor reach his eyes. “So, what you’re saying is that I create art every time I open my mouth?”

 

“Well, it sounds dumb when you put it like that,” she mutters.

 

He laughs loudly. “I’m just teasing you, Katniss. Thanks, though. That’s quite the compliment.”

 

Embarrassed, she begins to pull away, but he reaches for her hand. Dr. Aurelius’ words suddenly come back to her. _Peeta has shown violent tendencies in the past_.

 

She slips out from beneath his grasp and inches away – before pausing and setting herself down just far enough away that he won’t be able to reach for her without her noticing.

 

Clearing his throat nervously, Peeta looks up at the big television screen once more. “You know what it means if all that footage is real?”

 

“What?”

 

“It means that we were once in love. Or, at least, cared a lot about each other.”

 

He’s right. Because even if she had been faking it during the first Games, she’s sure that she wasn’t during the second. Her heart still aches when she thinks back to that scene of him hitting the force field.

 

“I guess so,” she admits in a soft voice.

 

“Maybe if we found that again, we could find ourselves.”

 

She had been thinking along the same lines. So this time, when he reaches for her, she lets him.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to 9timesoutoften for the beta!

 

 

“Tell me what you remember.”

 

She watches Peeta close his eyes and let his head fall back against the back of the armchair. They’ve both been moved to more luxurious living quarters, swapping their sparse hospital rooms for an apartment in a building that Dr. Aurelius tells them is the former Training Center for the Hunger Games. The doctor was quick to point out that they were still under surveillance for their own safety, but only in the communal areas. They had all agreed that the two of them were not to interact outside of the lounge and dining room; though if Katniss was honest, Peeta seemed less menacing than ever to her.

 

Still, they stick to the rule. Which means that she only gets to hear about his progress when Dr. Aurelius enters at precisely nine every morning.  Peeta seems to want to avoid spending time alone with her in the communal areas in the evening, despite his words after they had first watched the Games.

 

“I remember heat,” Peeta begins. “But not searing heat like a fire… but more of a pleasant kind, the kind that surrounds your entire body beneath a blanket in winter.”

 

The doctor seems pleased, despite the fact that Peeta can’t see him. “Can you recall the source of this heat?”

 

“No,” he says with a frown. “I’m inside a room, and there’s something in here with me. There’s something that I know that I have to keep my attention on. I just don’t know what it is.”

 

“Okay, let’s try another approach. Can you describe the rest of the room?”

 

Peeta screws his eyes tight – but a moment later, they burst open. “Worktops,” he whispers. “It’s a kitchen.”

 

When he smiles, the doctor smiles back. Katniss watches their exchange with interest – until they both catch her staring.

 

Dr. Aurelius clears his throat. “Your family owned the bakery in District 12, Peeta. You spoke about it briefly during your tribute interview, remember? What you didn’t say on camera – presumably because you were asked not to – was that you spent much of your time working there. By some accounts, all of the time that you were not in school would have been dedicated to the family business.”

 

“I’m a baker,” Peeta says quietly, as if he can’t quite believe it.

 

“Maybe you could try to make something,” Katniss interjects, her first words spoken during the morning. “They must have a kitchen somewhere here. You’ll be fine if you’re supervised, right?”

 

The doctor seems skeptical, but gives them a short nod regardless.

 

Peeta grins at her, “Yeah. I think I’d like that. You’ll come with me, right?”

 

“Um, yeah,” she stutters. “But only if I get to eat whatever you’re making.”

 

He snorts. “Considering that I didn’t know I could bake until now, you might regret that.”

 

“It’s worth the risk,” she says with a shrug. “I think I have a sweet tooth.”

 

She looks across to see that it is now Dr. Aurelius’ turn to watch their exchange with interest.

 

“And you, Katniss? Have there been any developments in what you can recall before the fire?”

 

She thinks back to the dream that she awoke from this morning, and the calm that has washed over her as the image had slowly faded in her mind’s eye. “I remember water. Lapping my feet,” she answers quietly.

 

The doctor’s eyes widen. “That’s good. _Very_ good, in fact. Are there are any associated feelings with this memory? Any sounds or smells?”

 

“Peace,” she says after a moment. “A feeling of peace. That’s all.”

 

Dr. Aurelius nods, almost to himself, before rising from his seat and excusing himself. When he returns a moment later, he points to the big screen on the wall in front of them.

 

“Watch.”

 

So they do. Katniss can tell immediately that there is something different about her in this footage. There’s melancholy in her expression, even when she begins to sing, that hadn’t been there before.

 

“It’s called a _propo_. Short for propaganda video,” the doctor tells them. “You recorded a series of them in District 13 before you were deployed to the Capitol. This one was filmed before Peeta’s rescue,” he adds.

                 

“Are there more after my rescue?” Peeta asks. “Did we film some together?”

 

Dr. Aurelius shakes his head. “I think that’s all for today.”

 

They both watch him leave, the door only just swishing shut before Peeta turns to face her, his dissatisfaction evident. “He always shuts down when I ask about my rescue. He’ll answer any question we ask about the Games or our lives before them, but nothing about what happened after.”

 

“Maybe he wants us to figure some of it out for ourselves first,” she offers. “That’s how it worked before, right?”

 

He still seems doubtful when he answers, “Maybe.”

 

*

 

During the second week, a new visitor is introduced after Dr. Aurelius has completed his afternoon visit. She recognizes him from the recordings of the Games that they’ve watched, but still eyes him warily as he takes a seat on the couch opposite her and Peeta.

 

“Haymitch,” he says by way of introduction.

 

“We know,” Katniss replies tersely. “What do you want?”

 

He snorts in amusement. “As charming as ever, I see.”

 

“You were our mentor during the Games,” Peeta comments. “Yet, it’s been four weeks since the firebombing, and this is the first we’re seeing of you.”

 

Haymitch looks across at her – sizing her up, she thinks – before turning back to Peeta.

 

“I only ever wanted to keep the two of you safe.”

 

Peeta huffs in displeasure. “We could have been killed that day.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And I was captured.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And Katniss got shot.”

 

“I _know_.”

 

Katniss scoffs. “So where were you? Too busy drinking? Passed out?”

 

She doesn’t expect her former mentor’s eyes to light up, and she certainly doesn’t expect the bark of laughter that escapes from his lips.

 

“Not completely gone, are you, sweetheart? How did you know that I like a drink or two?”

 

“Because you smell of it,” she answers triumphantly, turning her attention to Peeta for support. But his expression only holds confusion as his eyes dart between her and Haymitch.

 

“There’s no smell, Katniss.”

 

She falters. “Then why…”

 

“Because you remember it, that’s why,” Haymitch says as he leans back and places an ankle over the opposite knee. “I haven’t touched a drop in months – not since the Quell – but you remember what it was like before that.”

 

“You drink to forget,” she murmurs as an image swims into her mind. A wooden table covered in bottles, some standing, some fallen onto their sides. “It numbs the pain.”

 

The corner of his mouth twists into a grimace when she looks across at him. “ _Nothing_ numbs the pain, sweetheart.”

 

“I don’t think I like being called that.”

 

He snickers. “You never did.”

 

When he gets to his feet to leave, Peeta follows him to the door. She can’t make out any of the hushed conversation that they share with the guards, but eventually Peeta turns around and beckons for her to join him.

 

“They’re ready for us in the kitchen,” he reveals, his small grin conveying nervousness as well as excitement.

 

Haymitch accompanies them as far as the grand hallway on the first floor before saying his goodbyes, patting Peeta on the shoulder before lightly touching Katniss’s arm. “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” he says with a small nod.

 

She watches him leave, heartened a little by his words. Eventually joining Peeta in the kitchen, she sees that he has already set to work with the carefully laid out ingredients and equipment.

 

One of the guards motions for her to take a seat on the other side of the worktop from Peeta. Hopping up onto the stool, she takes a closer look at the intricately placed array in front of her. Several large and transparent canisters hold what she assumes are a variety of flours; though she has no idea how there could be such a wide range. And there must be at least thirty small bowls, each containing a different ingredient – a variety of nuts and dried fruits, some dried herbs, and even some chopped, fresh fruits and vegetables.

 

Peeta pushes one of the bowls towards her. “Here. Try this.”

 

Peering into it, Katniss tries to work out what the small, brown balls are, before picking one up. It’s smooth to the touch, and the outer layer even begins to melt onto the pads of her finger and thumb. But is only when she finally pops it into her mouth, that she finally solves the mystery of its identity.

 

“Chocolate,” she whispers.

 

“We used to drink it,” Peeta says triumphantly, reaching for the bowl again to grab a handful of the chocolate drops and throw them into the large bowl where he has been gathering the ingredients that he wants to use. “Back home, right?”

 

Katniss shakes her head. “No, we couldn’t have had this back in 12. It must have been here, in the Capitol.”

 

Peeta looks across at one of their guards – the friendlier one, she guesses – for confirmation. He shrugs. “Don’t know about 12, but you couldn’t get any in 13.”

 

But Peeta is barely listening as he begins to combine the mixture with his hands and then push his fingers into it in smooth, measured movements – _knead_ , she thinks after a few minutes. That was the word she had been searching for. Her attention flickers between the contents of the plastic bowl and Peeta’s expression, full of concentration.

 

When he is satisfied with his efforts, he looks up. “I think that I’m supposed to leave it for some time, but I can’t remember how long for.”

 

She’s as clueless as he is, and they only receive blank looks from the guards. Peeta’s quandary seems to be resolved, however, when the oven pings to announce that the desired temperature has been reached.

 

He shrugs before grabbing one of the many metal trays that have been laid at one of the work surface and brushing it with some sort of grease. Dividing the dough into six piles, he carefully rolls each one into a spherical ball before placing them onto the tray.

 

He catches her eye. “Here goes nothing,” he murmurs before lifting the tray and taking it across to the oven.

 

The ‘friendly’ guard asks how long it will take.

 

“Ten minutes of so, I think,” Peeta says uncertainly, his gaze fixed on the oven’s glass door. “Just long enough to get some color on the tops.”

 

The time seems to pass quickly to Katniss as she watches him, that frown of concentration now a permanent feature. When he finally switches off the heat and pulls the door open, he hesitates before reaching out.

 

“Wait!” the guard calls out. He walks across to the sink before continuing on to where Peeta stands. “You’ll need this,” he says, holding a thin towel out for him. “It’ll be hot, remember?”

 

Peeta looks down at his fingertips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Yeah, I remember.”

 

He looks up gratefully moment later and takes the towel. “Thanks.”

 

Katniss watches as he uses the towel to pull the tray from the oven before carrying it across and setting it down on the worktop between them.

 

“Try one,” he tells her softly.

 

She reaches for one of the rolls, juggling it delicately between her hands when the heat becomes too much. Peeta takes a seat across from her when she finally breaks the roll in half to reveal its soft, fluffy filling, interspersed with chocolate chips. His encouraging look is all she needs to take a bite.

 

The warmth envelops her, spreading outward from her tongue. The chocolate seems to taste better now too, less bitter, and adding a sweetness to the bread that makes it taste truly luxurious. Peeta is still watching her nervously when she swallows.

 

“It’s good,” she murmurs, holding the roll close so that she can inhale the steam that still rises from the soft center.

 

He seems relieved by her answer. “Really?”

 

“Really.” She stretches her arm across the worktop to offer him the half that she hasn’t bitten into, despite the fact that there are another five identical rolls that remain untouched. “Here, try some.”

 

His fingers graze hers as he accepts the offering, their eyes locking for just a moment. She watches him take a bite, smiling at his pleased expression, before continuing to eat her own half.

 

Along with their guards, they eat the rest of the batch in companionable silence.

 

*

 

A dull thud from somewhere else in the apartment wakes her. Reaching for the small clock on the table, she picks up and holds it in the light, sighing when the screen hits just the right angle.

 

_2 AM_.

 

Katniss sits up in bed, swallowing to try and alleviate her thirst. She knows that there had been a half-full jug of water resting on the coffee table in the lounge earlier, and doubts that the boy that brings them their meals would have removed it after they had retired to their rooms. Throwing off the covers, she slowly gets to her feet.

 

Making her way to the communal area, she’s pleased to see a familiar frame seated on the couch, facing away from her.

 

“Hey, Peeta,” she says before yawning silently. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

 

He doesn’t answer – he doesn’t even move.

 

“Peeta?”

 

Time seems to slow as she rounds the side of the couch – and it completely stops when he turns his head to expose his wide, dark eyes to her. Even in the dim light of the room, she can see that he doesn’t look like himself. His pupils are blown, his jaw clenched.

 

She begins to back away, Dr. Aurelius’s warnings suddenly at the forefront of her mind. _Tendency to display violent behavior… both of you are to be supervised at all times_. She knows that there will be guards out in the hallway, just on the other side of the door.

 

But the cry of help doesn’t seem to travel far from her lips – stopped by the tightening of Peeta’s fingers around her throat.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to 9timesoutoften for being a fab beta :)

 

 

“It’s called _hijacking_.”

 

She doesn’t care what it’s called. But her throat hurts and Dr. Aurelius seems to be blaming himself for what happened. So instead of telling him that, Katniss stares at the ceiling.

 

“Remember that footage of your first Games, when you were stung by tracker jackers?” She doesn’t respond, but the doctor continues regardless. “You were stumbling through the forest because you were having hallucinations. That was due to the tracker jacker venom. We believe that during Peeta’s time in the Capitol following the Quarter Quell, tracker jacker venom was used to implant false memories – of you.”

 

His voice fades into the background. She thinks that she might remember the tracker jackers now. She doesn’t know how much of the memory is real, and how much of it is what she imagines to be true after seeing the video footage from her first Games.

 

She registers the doctor’s movements as he makes to leave, but it’s clear from the noise of multiple sets of footsteps that she has more visitors. Katniss recognizes her mother and her sister as they come into view. Her sister – _Prim_ , she has to remind herself – stares at the thick brace that protects her neck.

 

Then a third face comes into her peripheral vision. Tall. Male. Dark hair and olive skin, just like her.

 

“Katniss?”

 

She blinks.

 

“I’m Gale. Do you… remember me?”

 

She shifts her gaze to the ceiling.

 

“Guess not,” he mutters. “We’re friends, _close_ friends. I was with you here in the Capitol, right before the firebombing. And I came to visit while you were recovering in the Burn Unit.”

 

She remembers that part now, remembers him slumped in the chair by the side of her bed whenever her mother wasn’t there. She remembers his frustration when her memory loss showed no signs of abating during those early days.

 

When he had told her that he was leaving because of his work, she had felt relieved that it would mean one less person to disappoint day after day.

 

He asks her mother questions regarding her medical care, and surprisingly, about Peeta too. She wonders if the three of them were all _close friends_.

 

When her mother leaves the room, Gale and Prim fall into conversation by her side. They seem familiar with each other, and she notes the affection that laces her sister’s voice as she asks after Gale’s family.

 

She only realizes that their conversation has ended when Gale taps her gently on the shoulder. “I have to go now. I just wanted to see how you were. Look after yourself, Katniss. People need you.”

 

She flinches when he brushes away a strand of hair from her cheek, the action seeming far too intimate for someone she doesn’t even think that she knows. Her discomfort only worsens when he leans close to whisper in her ear, “Coin can’t be trusted.”

 

She doesn’t know who _Coin_ even is, much less what he means by the rest of his words. But she blinks back at him regardless, relieved when he seems appeased and straightens away from her.

 

“I’ll see you again soon, Catnip.”

 

 _Catnip_. She doesn’t think that she likes that nickname either.

 

She hears the sound of the door swishing open and closed, and assumes that Gale has left. The sound of a chair leg scraping against the tiled floor catches her attention, and she assumes that her sister has taken a seat away from her view.

 

“Gale has a brother,” Prim starts. “Two, actually, as well as a sister. But it’s his brother Rory who I’m closest to. We used to play together as children when you and Gale first became friends, and he would walk me home from school when you stopped attending after you won the Games.”

 

She pauses, perhaps wondering if her older sister is even listening, so Katniss scrunches up the bedsheet by clenching her fists.

 

Prim must notice, because she starts up again a moment later. “Rory’s the reason I’m still alive. I was supposed to be on that hovercraft, you see, the one with the medics that were first on the scene. We watched the entire thing on TV – the dropping of the parachutes, the first wave of explosions. And then the arrival of the medics. I recognized so many of them from Thirteen.”

 

“I should have been there – I was _supposed_ to be there. Even the president herself had approved the request for _all_ trainee medical staff to fly to the Capitol, because she thought it would be valuable experience in the field for us all. But Rory told mother, and she stopped me. She even marched into the Control Room and yelled at everyone there. I’ve never seen her so angry.”

 

The chair shifts again, and a moment later, Prim comes into view. “So, you see, I would be dead if it wasn’t for Rory. I know that this is hard, Katniss, but I need you to get better. I need you to fight your way back to us, just like you always have – because I need you more than ever. Can you promise me that you’ll try?”

 

Katniss blinks.

 

*

 

When the medical staff finally clears her for discharge from the hospital, Katniss is relieved to hear that she has been moved to a different floor in the Training Center, away from Peeta.

 

Her return to that building coincides with the renewal of her daily sessions with Dr. Aurelius, who has the grace to look remorseful when he enters her new quarters the following morning.

 

“You knew about the hijacking before, didn’t you?” she asks flatly, already knowing what the answer will be.

 

“We were working hard to counteract the effects of the Peeta’s torture in District Thirteen, right up until the moment that you were both deployed here.”

 

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

 

“I did tell you that he had violent tendencies –“

 

“You didn’t tell me that he was brainwashed into thinking that he had to kill me!” she interjects angrily. “Prim told me that he had done this before, when he was rescued and first brought to Thirteen. Yet, you had us moved into the same living quarters.”

 

“I thought that I had taken all of the necessary precautions. I asked you not to fraternize outside of the communal areas, where we can monitor you using the security system – in fact, that’s how we managed to get to you so quickly that day.”

 

“You still should have told me,” she insists.

 

“I wanted Peeta to remember those memories by himself. It was important for him to be able to recognize that they were false by himself, and not come to that conclusion just because he was directed by me. But I _am_ sorry that you were hurt again – I should have protected you better.”

 

Wary, and not entirely satisfied by his response, Katniss insists on one more thing. “No more secrets.”

 

“No more secrets,” he promises.

 

“Did Coin know?” she asks suddenly, thinking back to Gale’s whispered warning.

 

If Dr. Aurelius is surprised by her question, he doesn’t show it. “Actually, it was President Coin’s idea. She was anxious for the two of you to regain your memories so that you would both be able to support her efforts for peace.”

 

 _President_ Coin. Was she Snow’s successor? Katniss assumes that she must be.

 

“How much do you remember of President Coin? Her first name? Appearance?”

 

Katniss shakes her head quickly. “Just _Coin_. Nothing else.”

 

He looks at her inquisitively. “You haven’t mentioned her before.”

 

“I think I overheard someone say her name. And I recalled that she was the president now. That’s all.”

 

Relief hits her when the doctor looks down at his notes and decides to change the subject.

 

*

 

Dr. Aurelius raises the subject of Peeta the next day.

 

“He’s asked to see you.”

 

Her first instinct is to refuse, but she says nothing.

 

“His progress has been remarkable since your… encounter.”

 

She scoffs, not only at his choice of such an innocuous word, but also at the injustice of the attack somehow _helping_ Peeta.

 

“He remembers much more of the time that he spent as a prisoner here in the Capitol. It’s been difficult for him, to have those memories of the torture come flooding back all at once.”

 

She imagines that it must indeed be hard for him… but still. “He tried to kill me.”

 

“Because that is what President Snow had him trained to do. That isn’t Peeta’s fault any more than your memory loss is yours.”

 

“Will he try it again?”

 

“I don’t know,” the doctor replies.

 

Katniss winces. “Well, I appreciate your honesty. But my answer has to be no. I don’t want to see Peeta.”

 

Sighing, Dr. Aurelius gets to his feet. “I understand. However, I would like you do one thing: watch the footage that I have arranged to be shown on a private station on Channel 10. It’s on a loop, so you can switch off at any time, and return to it later.”

 

She doesn’t give him an answer, but the mere presence of the TV screen preys on her mind for the rest of the morning, diminished only by visits from her mother and Prim, and later Haymitch.

 

“You watched any of it yet?” he asks after a few minutes of silence, jerking his head in the direction of the screen.

 

“You know about it?”

 

Haymitch nods. “It was my idea. It’s the remainder of the footage of you. From the victory tour, with Peeta, and the last of the propos that were recorded in Thirteen. After you watch that, you’ll have seen everything ever recorded of you.”

 

“And what is it supposed to achieve?” she asks sharply. “I’m not going to change my mind about Peeta.”

 

His lips twist into a shrug. “You knew there was a risk when you agreed to see him; Aurelius told you that he might be dangerous. But you thought it was worth it, to try and get back what you lost. All I’m asking for is for you to watch everything we have on the two of you. It’s not going to change the fact that Peeta tried to hurt you. But it might help you remember _why_ Snow chose to break Peeta – and you, I might add – by turning the two of you against each other.”

 

“You and I once made a pact that we would work together to save Peeta in the Quarter Quell. You were willing to sacrifice your life for his. I wish you’d remember that. I wish you’d remember the boy you once thought was worth saving. Because he’s still in there somewhere, just like you’re still in here somewhere.”

 

But Katniss has stopped listening, her mind stuck on the word _pact_. “You’ve said that to me before, haven’t you?”

 

The corner of his mouth slowly lifts into a smile. “You remember that?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“It was when you first came here from Thirteen, a couple of days before the firebombing. Peeta was deployed after you, as a replacement for one of your team members that was killed. You were angry that Coin would put you in that position.”

 

“Why _did_ Coin put me in that position?”

 

She only just manages to register the slightest shake of his head before he speaks, conveying his discomfort at her question. “I guess that she knew what a great team you and Peeta were. You’d defeated Snow before. Maybe she figured that you were stronger together.”

 

His response doesn’t make any sense, not when she considers that Peeta was considered dangerous to her back in Thirteen, _before_ they came to the Capitol. But Haymitch gives her that small shake of the head again when she opens her mouth to question him, and she realizes that he doesn’t want to talk about President Coin. Not here at any rate, under such watchful and perceptive eyes.

 

Not long after Haymitch leaves, Katniss finds herself at the entrance to the quarters, calling for the guards’ attention.

 

“Tell Dr. Aurelius I said yes.”

 

*

 

Two guards flank Katniss inside her quarters, as another two accompany Peeta through to the lounge area. Her gaze drifts to his hands where they rest by his sides. They seem so harmless now.

 

His eyes convey an apology that makes it to his lips within seconds. “I’m so sorry, Katniss. I was fine when I went to bed that night, but when I woke up, you were suddenly this whole other person to me. And the memory felt so strong, so real, that I thought it _had_ to be true. You were dangerous, a monster, and I had to stop you from killing me.

 

“I know now that they were false memories, planted when I was held captive. Dr. Aurelius said that I had been making progress in Thirteen to fight against them, and we’ve been using the same techniques again over the past few weeks.”

 

Katniss crosses her arms, ignoring his grimace at her defensive stance. “Are you saying that everything’s fine now? You have your memory back, and you’re never going to hurt me again? Because I don’t believe you.”

 

“I’m not saying that at all,” he responds, gentler than she expects. “There’s a lot that I don’t remember. And my memories of you are still so jumbled. But I’m starting to recognize the false ones now – they’re shiny and bright, almost too strong at times. And there are other memories that I’m sure are real.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Some from the Victory Tour – like seeing the ocean for the first time. Do you remember that?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

He glances across at one of his guards, and she notices the small bundle that has been brought in. Peeta beckons for it to be handed over, which the guard does quickly.

 

“I made some bread,” he says as he carefully unwraps the loaf before setting it down and breaking off a piece. He holds it out for her, but she doesn’t move. Sighing, he places it on the table before stepping back. “It’s a loaf that we used to sell in the bakery, with walnuts and pecans. It was one of my favorites, mostly because it still tastes great when it’s burnt or stale. I remember that most meals consisted of stale leftovers when I was young.”

 

His arm is still stretched, offering the lump of bread to her. He gives her a short nod of encouragement. Faltering, she steps forward to take it, careful to avoid his touch.

 

“I threw in a few raisins too.”

 

She doesn’t register his pointed look until she’s taken a bite – and has to close her eyes as the sensations threaten to overwhelm her. Because it isn’t just the taste that is familiar, but a myriad of other sensations too.

 

“You remember now, don’t you?”

 

She stares at the loaf in his hands as the memories come flooding back to her. The sight of the rain from beyond the shelter of the tree. The smell of the burnt bread that she hugs disbelievingly against her chest.

 

The feeling of such intense hunger.

 

And the sight of Peeta – the boy with the bread.

 

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, I remember.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to 9timesoutoften for beta-reading the first version of this and providing ideas of how to, well, rescue it. The final version is unbeta'd.

 

 

“Tell me what you remember.”

 

Katniss watches Dr. Aurelius as he waits for a response from Peeta, stylus poised between his fingertips and an electronic notepad resting in his lap. Their joint therapy sessions were reintroduced not long after he gave her the bread, though they all agreed that maintaining separate living quarters would be best.

 

“Something was calling for Katniss,” Peeta begins. “It was dark, and we couldn’t see very far. But we knew that something was coming for us – for _her_. We started running. I didn’t think we were going to make it, but we did. But we lost, um…”

 

“Finnick,” Katniss whispers, her throat suddenly feeling tight. “We lost Finnick.”

 

Peeta frowns for a moment, clearly trying to place the name in his mind. But then his eyes widen, first with horror, and then with sorrow. “Annie’s husband. Our ally in the Quarter Quell.”

 

“He was a rebel,” Katniss supplies. “He was in on Beetee’s plan to get us all out of the arena.”

 

“He collected secrets,” Peeta adds quietly. “That’s what he said in that propo, right? When he revealed that Snow sold him and the others.”

 

She knows that, like her, he has now been shown all of the footage from the Games and the war.

 

“Finnick’s evidence has been instrumental in Coriolanus Snow’s trial,” Dr. Aurelius tells them. “It has also encouraged many others in the Capitol to come forward and testify against him.”

 

“Is the trial over?” Peeta asks.

 

Their doctor gives them a grave nod. “He was found guilty on all charges.”

 

Peeta looks across at Katniss, and she can see a multitude of feelings flicker across his face.

 

She imagines that her own expression mirrors his, waves of relief and disbelief rolling through her.

 

*

 

“Do you remember what happened after we escaped from the tunnels?” Katniss asks later that evening. She stands by the window and looks down at the mayhem of the Capitol streets below as he perches on the arm of a couch in the center of the room.

 

“Some of it,” Peeta answers. “I could feel myself losing control. I told you to leave me, but you wouldn’t. And I guess that you didn’t, because I remember the shop basement that we ended up in. But there are so many gaps – my memory jumps from one scene to the next without any idea of how I made the journey.”

 

“I kissed you,” she says quietly.

 

Peeta looks across in confusion. “What?”

 

“When you were losing control after we left the tunnels. I kissed you. Your eyes, they were all black and dilated, and you trying so hard to fight against it. So I kissed you and told you to stay with me –“

 

“ _Always_ ,” he murmurs. “That was what I said to you.”

 

“Yes. And then your eyes contracted before they became normal again. And you were okay – you were you.”

 

“How did you know that kissing me would work?” he asks with a curious smile.

 

“I didn’t. It could just have easily sent you over the edge.”

 

His smile falters at her implication that he could just have easily had killed her. “So why did you do it?”

 

“Because after everything, I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not in that moment. Maybe not in _any_ moment,” she adds quietly, casting her eyes downward.

 

And though she can’t see his reaction, she _can_ see his tentative footsteps as he approaches. And she can see the slightest shake in his fingers as he raises his hand, holding it in the air for a moment before letting his fingertips come to rest lightly on her forearm.

 

She looks up to find him biting the corner of his lip. When his teeth let go, she feels the nervous puff of air that he releases before he speaks. “I don’t remember what it feels like to be kissed by you. I get the impression that I initiated most of them – you know, _before_.”

 

She swallows before answering. “I think that you did.”

 

Her eyes stay fixed on his as he begins to move his fingers upward, across her elbow and towards her shoulder.

 

“Why was that?” he asks gently.

 

“Because I didn’t know how I felt about you. I was too afraid, of Snow, of everything, to allow myself to think about you. But when I did… like on the beach… it felt good.”

 

His hand finds its way to the back of her neck, and he gently tugs her forward.

 

The command is surprisingly soft when it finally leaves his throat. “Kiss me.”

 

So she does.

 

It’s barely a graze between two mouths at first, but somehow her hands find his chest and make fists within the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. And then he angles his head just a fraction, just enough so his lips fit perfectly against hers.

 

And after, when the contact is lost but the heat remains, she finds herself staring into those brilliant blue eyes of his and never wanting to look away.

 

“How did that feel?”

 

“Good,” she murmurs.

 

The corner of his mouth curls upward. “Just good?”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. _Really_ good.”

 

They spend the rest of the evening curled against each other, sharing snippets of memories that they each remember and trying to piece the fragments together, even if all they can come up are slightly larger pieces of the puzzle.

 

When he makes a move to leave, Katniss kisses him again.

 

*

 

The following morning, consciousness brings with it the acute awareness of Peeta’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist. His steady breaths stroke the tip of her ear, indicating that he is still asleep- but when she shifts, his fingers spread against her stomach.

 

“Don’t go. Not yet.”

 

“Dr. Aurelius could walk in,” she murmurs.

 

They had talked long into the earlier hours of the morning, and when she couldn’t keep her eyelids from drooping any longer, Peeta had pulled them both down to recline on the couch.

 

“Still in the communal area,” he had whispered. “So we’re not breaking the rules.”

 

But now, with the harsh artificial light of day glaring down at them, Katniss is painfully aware of the cameras that must be focused on them.

 

“He’s probably watching,” Peeta responds now. “Waiting for us to get up.”

 

She sighs, knowing that he’s right. “Then we should get up.”

 

This time, he lets her move into a sitting position. She shivers when he runs his fingers lightly down her spine, but any response dies on her lips when she hears the door swish open.

 

Peeta waits for Katniss to shift to one end of the couch before rising and swinging his legs down to the ground next to hers. “Dr. Aurelius,” he greets their visitor.

 

When Katniss finally summons the courage to lift her eyes, she sees a soft smile playing on their therapist’s lips.

 

“We can make this morning’s session short. I think that it would be a fair assessment for me to say that you have both recovered well enough to be functional members of our society once more. In fact, I would like to recommend that we transition to the next phase of treatment – which would be for you both to leave this facility.”

 

His words don’t excite Katniss like she thought they would – instead, a wave of anxiety hits her. “Where would we go?”

 

“I strongly recommend that we continue daily sessions, either together or individually, or a combination of the two.” The doctor’s calm expression wavers slightly before he continues, and Katniss doesn’t miss the way that his eyes dart towards the large mirror that hangs above the fireplace. “President Coin has made arrangements for you to return to either District 12 or 13. It would be your choice, of course.”

 

Katniss watches Peeta lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees. They exchange a glance before he speaks, and she knows that he must be feeling as apprehensive as she is. “How would we continue seeing you if we’re not in the Capitol?”

 

“Telephone. Video conference. I could make occasional visits in person if it is deemed necessary.”

 

Katniss finds her attention drifting back to the mirror and the camera that must be located there. “Why can’t we stay here?”

 

“The media interest would be too great if you were to remain in the Capitol,” the doctor replies. “The two of you are arguably our most poignant symbols of the war, and I am concerned about the detrimental effects that that kind of attention could have.”

 

“But we’re not just symbols,” Peeta blurts out. Katniss can see the tension in his jaw, and instinctively places her hand on his arm. “We’re people, and the only options you’re giving us are two war-torn districts.”

 

“They are the safest options,” Dr. Aurelius reasons. “The Capitol and all of the districts are war-torn –“

 

“But 12 was decimated,” Katniss interrupts. “We saw it on the propo, and I was there, wasn’t I?”

 

It isn’t so much the image from the propo that her mind conjures up, but her feelings that make her certain that she had been there – horror, grief… guilt.

 

“District I2 suffered the most,” Aurelius admits. “But the Victors’ Village remains habitable and your homes are still intact. Otherwise District 13 is an option, and you will be well cared for there.”

 

He looks pointedly at his wristwatch before getting to his feet. “Your family and friends are scheduled to visit soon, so I suggest you discuss the options with them.”

 

They remain in the seats long after he leaves.

 

“We could go home,” Peeta whispers. “To District 12.”

 

“There’s nothing there.” Katniss turns to him, forlorn. “It was all destroyed because of me.”

 

Peeta shakes his head. “No, not because of you. Because of Snow.”

 

“My mother and Prim might not want to go back there. After all, they did witness the destruction.”

 

“They might not,” he concedes. “But you won’t know until you ask.”

 

“Would you be alright going back? Without your family?”

 

His brow creases with sorrow. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to be.”

 

“We could go to 13 instead.”

 

Peeta grimaces. “I don’t think I can. The memories that I have of that place seem intertwined with those of the torture. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to separate the two.”

 

“12 it is then,” she decides. “You, me, my family, and maybe Haymitch if he wants to.”

 

The sound of voices beyond the door catches their attention, and she finds Peeta pulling her to her feet. “We’ll have to persuade them first.”

 

The door slides open to reveal four visitors – her mother and sister, Haymitch, and Gale. Prim breaks into a sprint, not stopping until Katniss wraps her arms around her.

 

“Hey, little duck.”

 

She feels her sister’s body shake with delighted laughter. “You remember.”

 

“I do.” Her eyes find Peeta’s. “I remember a lot now.”

 

As everyone finds a seat in the room, Peeta reveals their news, glancing at Katniss occasionally for confirmation.

 

When he finishes, the room is filled with silence for several minutes.

 

“I don’t think that it would be good for Prim to return to 12,” her mother eventually says, an apology in her eyes as she waits for a reaction from Katniss. “She would have a brighter future elsewhere. A colleague of mine from 13 mentioned a new hospital being built in District 4, and I thought that the three of us could go there once you were better.”

 

“I can’t. Doctor’s orders are for District 12 or 13 – you know, to avoid the media attention,” she adds quickly.

 

“I don’t want to leave Katniss,” her sister responds with a resolute shake of the head. “If she’s going back to 12, then so am I.”

 

Their mother looks resigned – but Katniss knows that she’s right. “You should both go to 4,” she tells Prim softly. “Start a new life there. You can visit me in 12, and well, maybe I can visit you in 4 when I’m better.”

 

“You’re better _now_ ,” Prim points out.

 

But before Katniss can formulate a response, Haymitch’s gruff laughter pierces the room. “Her comparatively sunny disposition these days suggests otherwise, kid.” He stands, walking slowly to approach the fireplace before turning around to face the room’s occupants. “For what it’s worth, I think that your mother’s right. The two of you need to think about _your_ future. Katniss and Peeta can – and _will_ – recover just fine in 12. I can keep an eye on them.”

 

When his gaze locks with hers, he mouths the word _okay_ , brows raised in question. Katniss nods, conscious that he hasn’t said anything about her going to District 4. _Guess he doesn’t think that the prying ears will agree to that idea_.

 

Haymitch turns his attention to Gale. “And you, boy? What are your plans after the execution?”

 

Peeta’s head jerks up. “What execution?”

 

“Snow’s,” Gale replies simply. “It’s tomorrow, by firing squad, with a representative from each district. I’m 12’s.”

 

“And you’re okay with that?” Katniss asks in disbelief. She doesn’t know whether she could handle that as calmly as Gale seems to be.

 

He swallows before speaking – and she remembers this from when they were younger, from all of those times when he would try to reassure her that they were going to be fine – that they were going to live. She didn’t think he ever believed those words himself. “Yeah. I’m fine with it. And after that, I’ll be staying here. President Coin has offered me a position in Panem’s new peacekeeping force.”

 

Now she knows that he must be lying. Gale would never want to be a peacekeeper, not even for a regime other than Snow’s. That word is tainted for them; it always has been and always will be.

 

“So it’s settled,” Haymitch says before she has a chance to respond to Gale. He gives her a pointed look before continuing, one that tells her to keep quiet. “Mrs. and Ms. Everdeen the younger will be heading to District 4, I’ll be taking Katniss and Peeta to 12 once they’re formally released, and Soldier Hawthorne will be staying here.”

 

“When do we leave?” Peeta asks.

 

Haymitch is already heading towards the door. “In a couple of days, I imagine. I’m going to have a few words with the Doc, and when I get back, I suggest we all head out. Katniss and Peeta need to pack, and it’s a big day for the rest of us tomorrow.”

 

She is still staring at the back of Haymitch’s retreating body when Peeta suddenly jumps to his feet. “Hey Prim? Katniss was describing your goat to me, and I drew a picture of her. It’s Lady, right? Want to come and see – you can tell me whether we got it right or not.”

 

Prim trails after him as he heads towards the large desk in the corner of the room where they keep Katniss’s notebook and his sketch pad. A moment later, her mother follows them, leaving her alone with Gale.

 

She turns to him. “Are you sure about staying here – in the Capitol?”

 

His mouth twists into an uncertain shrug. “I want to stay for a while and see how things pan out with the new government. After that, I was thinking that we could settle in one of the other districts. Somewhere where my brothers and Posy stand a chance of a decent future.”

 

“You don’t _ever_ want to go back to 12?”

 

“Maybe one day.” His eyes drop to the floor. “But it’s too soon right now.”

 

“Will you at least visit?” she asks softly.

 

He gives her a wistful look. “If you still want me to visit once you’re there, then yeah. Of course I’ll visit.”

 

She shakes her head in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? Is this about Peeta?”

 

“No. It’s about whether you’ll want anything to do me once everything is out in the open.” He shakes his head as if to clear it of unpleasant thoughts. “I should go. Haymitch will be back soon.”

 

On cue, the door opens. Her goodbyes to her family seem rushed, confused even, and Gale refuses to look her in the eye even after they hug. A sense of nervousness seems to have enveloped them all, and Katniss knows that she can’t be the only one to feel out of what seems to be a very important loop.

 

After one final embrace from Prim, she finds herself alone with Peeta once more. His steady breaths slowly calm her uneven ones, and when he reaches for her hand, she gives it gladly.

 

He leads her over to the fireplace, pulling her into a hug once they’re there and twirling her slightly. It is only when he stops that she realizes that he has deliberately positioned her in front of the mirror and the camera that hides behind it. And he’s standing so close that any other cameras probably can’t see her expression either.

 

He casts his eyes down to where he holds a thin strip of paper against his chest. “Haymitch gave it to me,” he whispers.

 

_Need to leave the Capitol tonight, before the execution. Things may not go as planned. I’ll make arrangements for your mother and sister._

 

Peeta’s look of concern must surely mirror hers, but she knows that he won’t give voice to his thoughts now. Instead, one hand cups her cheek to kiss her as the other discreetly pops the note into his shirt pocket, using her body to shield his actions from any watchful eyes.

 

“Are you sure about this?” he asks when they finally pull away. “Going back to 12, I mean.”

 

She gives him a look that is full of doubt. “There’s still so much that we don’t know, that we don’t remember. How would we do it… how would we survive?”

 

The corner of his mouth twists into a wry smile. “We’ve done pretty well so far. We survived the Games, the war. We can survive this, too.“

 

“What if we shouldn’t be together?”

 

He must surely know the source of her uncertainty; even so, her fingers drift involuntarily to her neck.

 

“I’ll keep talking to Dr. Aurelius,” he says resolutely. “And so should you. The things that happened to us, they don’t just disappear. But if we work at it, if we work _together_ , then maybe we have a shot. And a shot is more than a lot of people got.”

 

She knows that he’s right; it’s more than his family got. She slides her hand across his chest. He doesn’t let her down, meeting her there so that she can lace her fingers between his. “So we’ll go home to 12 – together?”

 

Peeta nods as he squeezes her hand. “Together.”

 

 


End file.
